Where the Dragons Have Gone
1603, May 27
Most days, I find myself wandering around the music building . It is by far the oldest of all the buildings . Somehow it’s old stones are able to keep its temperature more or less the same in the coldest and the warmest of months. It is a comfort that affords not only safety from the teasing of my classmates as well as a peaceful place to have a meal or read a book .
I have a favorite spot on the third floor staircase where its windows frame a ancient moss covered oak tree outside . Most days , I find myself having my lunch there . I am sure it is not completely forgotten . The steps are always clean and its wooden banisters shine but I have yet to ever see anyone there in the days since I have started my education.
I expect if I had been brave enough or stupid enough to ask my father if I could learn to play the piano that I would be subjected to weeks of rebuke . So I spent my lunches listening to those who could live my wish for me.